


Beneath The Surface

by PrincexRaven



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, F/M, Gen, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Self-Hatred, Surgery, plastic surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 22:52:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18647740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincexRaven/pseuds/PrincexRaven
Summary: It's how your friends can change inside, ah...Or, Graverobber has his own reasons for always serving Miss Amber Sweet, and they're nowhere near what they appear on the surface.





	Beneath The Surface

The first thing he thought is that she was too young –far, far too young– to be here. To even have heard of him. Only the truly desperate roamed the streets at those ages, but her clothes were expensive, tailored to fit her perfectly, a pink velvet pinafore with flared skirt and baby-collar white silk blouse with puffed sleeves, a short matching cloak with a hood over her face. Pale, pale, pale, willowy and frail, extremely thin limbs and a body he could have circled with his two hands. But when she pulled back the hood, revealing big, doe-like, deep brown almond-shaped eyes, a pouty mouth and black Shirley Temple style ringlets with a pink ribbon on them, he realized with a startle that he knew her. That everybody did.

Carmela Largo, Rotti’s golden child, all sweet and candy-pink and proper in every interview and public appearance. Why had this Riding Hood come into the wolf’s den? Why the desire in Snow White to taste poison? He knew her to be more than she appeared, willful and petulant and capricious, spoiled beyond rotten, but had the life she lead drained her so quickly that she sought the numb kiss of Z at the age of twelve? Was it just a whim, to escape her golden cage and indulge in that which was forbidden to her? Was she simply bored, her brothers more than a decade older than her each, daddy always busy, surrounded by nannies too frightened to discipline her? Maybe he ought to show her what a real punishment was like, scare her enough that she’d never do something this stupid again. Did she not know what happened to nymphets like her in dark alleys?

But before he could speak, she did, white-socked feet in flimsy patent leather shoes planted firmly on the dirty floor, eyes fixed on his. She tried to be arrogant –“I want the glow, and I can pay, and you're going to give it to me” she said– but he was old enough to hear the plea in her command, to see the glaze of desperation in those too-young dark eyes. So he just leaned back and casually said “Why should I? I doubt you have anything that could interest me”.

She raised trembling hands to the rounded, Peter-Pan collar of her blouse, and undid enough buttons that he could see her prominent collarbone and the alarming shadow of what seemed to be hickeys before stopping her.

“What do you think you're doing?!”

“Please”, she said, simply. “I'm hurting. If you don't want money, then maybe...”

His eyes were narrow and furious; hers were watery, wide as saucers, hollow and sunken. There was only one person in the world who could do this to Carmela Largo and get away with it. A single drop of blood slid down the inside of her thigh, almost luminous in its brightness against deathly pale skin, offensive like a crude neon sign in what it meant. He could feel the fury pounding in his veins, the powerlessness and ire blinding. She was shaking, and the only thing he could do for her was give her what she asked for. He cradled little Carmela in his arms and held her as her royally blue veins became truly blue, phosphorescent for an instant before she slumped against him and slept, her mind finally empty. 

He was going to kill Rotti Largo, one day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was shrill. Loud. Demanding. Arrogant. Conceit and entitlement seeping from each of her pores. He fucked her in disgust when he couldn’t get away, noticed all the big and small ways Amber had tried to erase all traces of Carmela. Nothing about her face was the same, not the fake, unnaturally colored eyes or the too-high, too-sharp cheekbones or the shape of her lips. She was a perfect sex doll and he knew her father was repulsed by her as if he hadn’t shaped this vapid, empty shell of a woman into wanting nothing more than to be desired, a new model of toy each week, flapper dresses in pastels and silvers or the skintight black leather of a dominatrix moulded to her fake, artificially perfect form.

She still had black hair, some days, and he wondered if only he saw through her acting –but he fucked her, and shot her up, and made her feel desired like she wanted even though her new form(s) made his skin crawl. She paid in cash, sometimes, when he got forceful, because he had to eat, but one way or the other she always got what she wanted, because his own hands were dirty, too, and he would never forgive himself for letting Rotti, first, and Amber, later, kill little Carmela with the help of his gun.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. Canonically, Amber is not half a dimwit as she pretends to be since she seized control from both her homicidal brothers, but I can see a deep-seated hatred of herself in the drug addiction and constant surgery -and maybe an effort to destroy whatever *someone* saw in her. Also, she seems to have quite the Stockholm syndrome regarding Rotti, and also appears to be the only thing Rotti genuinely feels remorse about, beside the disgust, to allow her to reject his name and constantly change her appearance. This is just my take on Amber's playacting and addictions, Graverobber's apparent inability to say "no" to her, and Rotti's combination of disgust and regret.


End file.
